Below is the info you all need to pick up a free download of Kiss Me!
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Expires: June 10, 2015
Saturday, 30 May 2015
Friday, 29 May 2015
Eroticon 2015
Eroticon 2015 is fast approaching! Here's the low down...
Eroticon is the UK's conference for sex bloggers and erotica writers. A weekend of workshops where you can learn, share, network and meet the people behind the names on your computer screen.
Eroticon 2015 takes place on 1st & 2nd of August in Bristol UK.
There's loads going on over the weekend, including get-togethers on the Friday and Saturday evenings. The Brit Babes love Eroticon and in the past have been there in force, but this year the dates haven't worked so well for everyone. However, Lily Harlem and Kd Grace are not only attending but also running a 45 minute creative writing workshop on the Saturday afternoon.
There are lots of great speakers lined up and you can read all about them here.
The session Lily and Kd are running is called Crafting Creativity and is aimed at new writers preparing to publish their work for the first time, but will also be of benefit to bloggers who want to polish their short stories and create a more professional image for their blog.
The session will start by discussing the big picture when writing erotica/erotic romance (timelines, characterisation, plot) and aspects such as avoiding head hopping, ‘showing not telling’ and then work down to the fine details of crafting each sentence. By the end of the session the audience will have a better understanding of how to create an ‘arc’ in their story and how to make characters believable and 3D. They should also be able to analyse their own writing to eliminate common mistakes that make their work look unpolished and unappealing to publishers and in turn readers.
You can check out the Eroticon Blog and find out more on the website. If you haven't been to Bristol before it's a modern and vibrant city on the River Avon about 2 hours west of London.
Thursday, 28 May 2015
Tell Me
My latest release is up on Amazon. Tell Me is a sizzling story about trust, barriers, and about keeping secrets.
You can grab it now, from Amazon US Amazon UK
Here's the back cover stuff...
Tell me, Thea. After months of frequenting her local BDSM club, Thea has found what every submissive dreams of, the perfect Dom. He understands every gasp and shiver of her response and gives her exactly what she craves. He pushes her limits, takes her to the edge and then holds her while she floats back to reality. He knows every inch of her body in intimate detail, but nothing else about her at all. Though he tries to delve into her personal life, he respects her wishes when she refuses. Thea feels compelled to keep her ‘real’ life separate from anything that happens on the BDSM scene, it's the only way she can exist. Tony is bewitched from the first moment he lays eyes on his perfect little sub at The Wicked Club. Months of scening with her only makes him crave more. But any pressure for information about her private life has her scurrying away like a frightened kitten. He needs to keep his cool and take it slow in order not to scare her away. That is until a twist of fate lands Thea in Mr Tony diMarco's office and her worlds collide. Her perfect Dom is sitting behind the desk at her new job. It's too much and she refuses to mix her personal and professional lives. But Tony won't take no for an answer. He needs Thea Richmond in his bed and in his office and he is determined to have his way. Thea is reluctant to blur the lines, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to maintain her well-ordered existence. Will she trust her Dom to push her to the edge like he always does? Or will she risk losing the man she has come to love?... and of course a HOT excerpt to set the mood.
“Sir, stop… Please, I can’t…” Thea allowed her head to drop backwards, dislodging the loose knot her Dom had fashioned in her hair at the start of their scene. It tumbled down her back in dark waves, a light caress against her shoulders, tender from the lash of the flogger. She hissed in a sharp breath, battling to ride the waves of exquisite agony shooting in a direct line from her clamped nipples to her clit. The relentless flogging paused. Thea gasped, dragging in precious oxygen during this brief lull. A few seconds, just a few sweet moments would be enough for her to regroup and be ready to continue. “Sir stop? Since when was that a safe word, girl?” Thea’s pussy clenched at the low, rich tone of the man behind her, as he leaned forward now to murmur the words right into her ear. He had a unique quality in his voice, some special timbre which seemed to resonate right through her soul. She could never say no to him. “It isn’t. I mean, I don't want to stop, I apologise, Sir.” “Tell me, Thea.” He reached around her to cup her breasts in his hands, briefly relieving the tension created by the nipple clamps gripping each of her swollen nubs. Thea sighed in relief, loving the intimacy of this moment, the certainty that he knew, without her even needing to tell him, that she was close to her limit. Except she had told him. She had asked him to stop, though not in the customary manner, the manner guaranteed to bring a scene to a shuddering halt. If she’d uttered her safe word her Dom would have released her from the restraints which held her suspended from the beam across the ceiling in the dungeon. There would be no questions asked, she would be whisked straight into the aftercare suite. There she would be wrapped in a blanket and snuggled up to his warm solid body before she could say ball gag. Thea hadn’t said ‘red’; but through her tone, her body language, he knew anyway. Tony always knew. “I just need a moment, Sir. Oh, that feels good.” Thea allowed her head to rest against her Dom’s shoulder as he massaged her breasts, his fingers gentle against her delicate, sensitive skin. For several more seconds he caressed her, drawing her back into the scene, back under his spell. He seemed to know the exact moment she was his again. “We continue?” “Yes, Sir. Please,” There was a faint swirl of air against her naked back as he stepped away, and a rustle as he bent to retrieve the flogger he had laid to one side in order to calm her. Thea shivered, then exhaled as he drew the strands of the flogger across her shoulders, her already heated skin prickling under the caress. He walked around her to trail the suede tendrils over her breasts, paying close attention to her throbbing nipples. Thea tensed, willing him not to flick or nudge, but at the same time longing for him to do just that. He didn’t. Instead he brushed her lips with his own, just the lightest suggestion of a kiss before he circled around behind her again. Thea wondered if it was possible to die from longing, from sheer anticipation. “Sir…” “I know.” His tone was clipped, all business. Gone now the tender lover of just a few seconds ago, “Now, right?” “Now, Sir … aaagh” Despite her readiness Thea let out a startled yelp as the flogger landed across her naked shoulders. The pain was sharp at first, shimmering across the surface of her skin, then sinking into her flesh, rich and heavy. She sagged forward, allowing the restraints which held her secure by the wrists to take her weight now. Wordless, her Dom continued to drop stroke after stroke across her shoulders and buttocks, her breasts, her hips, each one perfectly placed and timed to ensure she had sufficient space to absorb the impact before the next fell. His movements were economical, efficient, precise, his skill long-practised. He circled her slowly, her body open to him, exposed.Tuesday, 26 May 2015
Innocence is Live
Innocence from all kindle downloads
Innocence Blurb
Book 1
Calvin
Edwards has everything he could dream about— perfect lifestyle, running the
family real-estate company back in London. He takes a holiday up north to visit
his parents only to find a young pregnant woman attempting to take her life.
Wishing to help, Calvin becomes a friend to her, only fears he’s out of his
depth. Just when he thinks he can do this his past resurfaces, sending his life
crashing.
Kacey
is pregnant and her life is out of control with nowhere left to go. She descends
on her mum for one last chance for help, only to have the door slammed in her
face. At her wits end, she is alone, scared, and helpless until Calvin comes
along. He becomes a dear friend giving her kindness, something she thought no
longer existed in the world. Only she finds what she’d pushed to the back of
her mind through selfish pain is back. Her past with all its mistakes has come
back to life!
Excerpt
“We could
go and get some breakfast too, dinner and tea, I don’t mind, it’s something I would enjoy,” he continued to say
behind her.
“Lovely,”
she said, feeling
a stinging sensation taking over her internal organs. She took a sip of her hot
tea, trying to force the lump in her throat down.
“Right!
Is it okay if I go and grab a quick shower?”
“Sure.” There is no way I am turning around to look at you and allow
you to see my disappointment. What the hell will happen to me when you’ve gone?
How will I cope without having his kindness around me? Can I not just keep him
for a few extra days?
Kacey
waited a few minutes before spinning around and found Calvin gone and no doubt
already stripping off his clothes. She let out a large breath, struggling to
think clear. Calvin felt like a severe addiction and one she wouldn’t forget in
a hurry. She turned to stare at the bedroom door, no doubt him already naked in
the shower, having the water cascading over his delicious body. She put her
hand over her mouth, appalled to be thinking such a way, endeavouring not to
have the image in her mind.
Nevertheless,
all she could see was Calvin standing under the shower and the water dancing
over his fine features. Closing her eyes and feeling terribly sick, longing to
touch, feel, and have him wrapped around her tight the way he held her last night.
How she resented the fact her nostrils were bunged up, preventing her from
inhaling his wonderful aroma.
“Stop it!
Stop it! Stop it now for goodness sake,” she said needing to shake off those
silly thoughts.
Kacey
walked to the bedroom, unsure if it was safe to enter. She stood, gawping at
the door debating whether to wait for him to come out or not. The bathroom was separate from the bedroom and surely, as much as she
craved to see him, she wouldn’t. She decided to enter the room to get dressed.
Only,
when walking inside the room she crashed into Calvin. His towel dropped and so
did hers.
They both stood gormlessly staring into one another’s eyes looking
mortified.
"Jeez, I
am so sorry,” Calvin muttered and quickly bent over and she caught the sight of
his naked bottom. Her eyes shot wide-open. Then, Kacey used her hands to cover
her large breasts and her womanhood. Calvin wrapped the towel around his waist,
holding it tight and turned his body around facing the opposite way, using his
hand to blindfold his eyes.
“Bloody
hell, I am so sorry,” he said while she watched him taking side steps to reach
the bedroom door. A large lump formed in her mouth, shocked, unable to take her
eyes of him, holding his head low, keeping his eyes covered at all times. Once
he reached the door he dashed out of the room, and he was gone. Kacey stood astonished at what had just happened.
“I’m so
sorry, Kacey,” he voiced sincerely.
Buy link
Author
Holly J. Gill
A wife and a mum to
three grown up children, and lives in the UK. Holly J. Gill is a romance
writer, her main genre being erotic, romance and has recently been exploring
new channels, paranormal and contemporary. Holly has been writing since being a
young girl, having characters talking to her, and longing to get their stories
written. Finally, her dream came true two years ago, when getting her first
contract with Secret Cravings Publishing for her Desires series. In Holly’s
spare time she loves spending quality time with her family, seeing friends for
lunches and sharing her new potential ideas for books. She enjoys listening to
music, watching movies and travelling around England visiting the beautiful
countryside.
Writing is where
Holly’s heart is…
Where
to find Holly
Wednesday, 20 May 2015
Just Desserts Pre-Order
Feast on this collection of 22 Contemporary and Paranormal/Sci-Fi/Fantasy Erotic stories from bestselling, award-winning and multi-published authors, in this limited-time anthology. All stories are exclusive new content and can be read without reading the series, but will be icing on the cake for readers loyal to each saga.
Amazon Pre-order
JUST DESSERTS - A Collection of Bite-Sized Delights
22 Bestselling, award-winning and multi-published authors bring you the naughtiest delights.
Michele Bardsley ~ Honey Bear ~ The Pearson’s Security Series
Renee George ~ Alpha-Bites ~ The Cull: Claimed by the Alpha
Jodi Redford ~ Perfect Passion ~ Perfect Chemistry
Zara Cox ~ Indigo Velvet ~ Indigo Lounge Series
Renea Mason ~ Tasting Paris ~The Good Doctor Trilogy
Piper Denna ~ Confidential Craving ~ Fantasies Inc. Series
Erzabet Bishop ~ Black Magic Café
Iyana Jenna ~ Strictly Professional
Anne Lange ~ Blind Taste Test
S.J. Maylee ~ Common Grounds
Terri George ~ Feast on Me
Lee Rene ~ The Sweetness in the Pudding
Mindy Larson ~ Sweet Tooth
Felicity Kates ~ Super-Sex Me ~ The Little Miss Kick-Ass Series
Emma Nichols ~ Sinfully Sweet ~ The Sweet Series
Libby Sinclair ~ Cake Topper ~ The Incarnation Chronicles
Rissa Blakeley ~ A Little Taste of Naughty ~ The Shattered Lives Series
Mariah Kingsley ~ Sugar and Spice
Rosemary Rey ~ Always the Last One
Persephone Jones ~ Cherry Tart
Christine Severin ~ Cherry Lips
J.S Snow ~ Claiming
Tuesday, 19 May 2015
Weekly Book Focus
Marissa Lambert is furious her agent hired a security agency to protect her. Just because two plus-size models have turned up dead doesn’t mean she’s at risk. Besides, she can take care of herself!
Beau Evans owns Evans Security. The moment he watches Marissa sashay down the runway, he gets a serious itch that doesn't go away. Once they succumb to the lust in their blood there's no turning back.
Beau Evans owns Evans Security. The moment he watches Marissa sashay down the runway, he gets a serious itch that doesn't go away. Once they succumb to the lust in their blood there's no turning back.
Buy Link |
EXCERPT-
Handsome stud or not, Marissa decided to get right to the point. “Nothing against you, but you’re fired.” She tried to ignore the tiny scar at the corner of his sensual mouth.
“I don’t work for you. You can’t fire me.” He cocked a brow. “Even if you can take care of yourself.” His sexy drawl clearly said he didn’t think so.
Marissa pressed her lips together. “You caught me by surprise.” All of him caught her by surprise. He had the whole package right down to his muddy cowboy boots. He was a true Texan, and nothing close to her unflattering description to Kirk.
He laughed. “You think the killer is going to announce himself?”
Damn him! “Well, maybe I can’t fire you, but after what you just did, I can call your boss and demand another bodyguard.” Marissa slapped her hands on her full hips.
Why is he laughing again?
“My brothers and I own Evan’s Security and I’m afraid they’re all on assignments right now.”
Good God, there was more like him?
“I’m afraid I’m stuck with you.”
Marissa was preoccupied with the way his sensuous mouth formed the words, until what he said reached her on a conscious level. He was stuck with her? Her gaze returned to his. There was amusement swimming in his chocolate eyes. Rich, decadent chocolate that she could drown in if she wasn’t careful. Her lips twitched in response. She liked a man with a sense of humor, even directed at her.
Beau Evans was a big, well-proportioned man, and the way he filled out a pair of jeans revealed his powerful, muscular thighs. Marissa couldn’t help her wandering gaze as it moved down his body, then back up again. She gauged his height to be somewhere around six feet five. Not too many men made her feel small, but this one did.
“So, where’s the hat, cowboy?”
“In my truck.”
It figured he’d have a truck. Didn’t all macho Texans?
“What did you mean earlier when you said, ‘I have a lot to learn?’”
“I’ll show you after you put some clothes on.”
After years of modeling, Marissa was used to being in various states of undress around people. It came with the business, and she was very comfortable in her own skin. The minute she’d entered her dressing room she’d kicked off her heels and removed the sheer thigh length shirt.
“I am wearing clothes.”
If eyes could strip, she’d be naked right now. “If you insist, ma’am.”
Handsome stud or not, Marissa decided to get right to the point. “Nothing against you, but you’re fired.” She tried to ignore the tiny scar at the corner of his sensual mouth.
“I don’t work for you. You can’t fire me.” He cocked a brow. “Even if you can take care of yourself.” His sexy drawl clearly said he didn’t think so.
Marissa pressed her lips together. “You caught me by surprise.” All of him caught her by surprise. He had the whole package right down to his muddy cowboy boots. He was a true Texan, and nothing close to her unflattering description to Kirk.
He laughed. “You think the killer is going to announce himself?”
Damn him! “Well, maybe I can’t fire you, but after what you just did, I can call your boss and demand another bodyguard.” Marissa slapped her hands on her full hips.
Why is he laughing again?
“My brothers and I own Evan’s Security and I’m afraid they’re all on assignments right now.”
Good God, there was more like him?
“I’m afraid I’m stuck with you.”
Marissa was preoccupied with the way his sensuous mouth formed the words, until what he said reached her on a conscious level. He was stuck with her? Her gaze returned to his. There was amusement swimming in his chocolate eyes. Rich, decadent chocolate that she could drown in if she wasn’t careful. Her lips twitched in response. She liked a man with a sense of humor, even directed at her.
Beau Evans was a big, well-proportioned man, and the way he filled out a pair of jeans revealed his powerful, muscular thighs. Marissa couldn’t help her wandering gaze as it moved down his body, then back up again. She gauged his height to be somewhere around six feet five. Not too many men made her feel small, but this one did.
“So, where’s the hat, cowboy?”
“In my truck.”
It figured he’d have a truck. Didn’t all macho Texans?
“What did you mean earlier when you said, ‘I have a lot to learn?’”
“I’ll show you after you put some clothes on.”
After years of modeling, Marissa was used to being in various states of undress around people. It came with the business, and she was very comfortable in her own skin. The minute she’d entered her dressing room she’d kicked off her heels and removed the sheer thigh length shirt.
“I am wearing clothes.”
If eyes could strip, she’d be naked right now. “If you insist, ma’am.”
Monday, 18 May 2015
Make Do and Mend by Lorna Peel (@peellorna)
At the
outbreak of World War Two in September 1939, almost a quarter of the British
population was entitled to wear some sort of uniform. The increased demand for
uniforms put enormous pressure on Britain's textile and clothing industries and
rationing was introduced in June 1941. Silk was one of the first fabrics to go
as it was needed for the war effort, so Into The Unknown’s Kate Sheridan was
very lucky to have been bought two sets of silk lingerie by her aunt Helen to
replace her embarrassingly old-fashioned underwear.
Rationing
worked by allocating each type of clothing item a value in points. Every adult
was initially given an allocation of 66 points to last one year, but this
allocation shrank as the war progressed. Eleven coupons were required for a
dress, two needed for a pair of stockings, and eight coupons for a man's shirt
or a pair of trousers. Women's shoes meant handing over five coupons, and for
men's footwear seven.
Despite
these shortages, people were encouraged to keep looking fashionable in order to
keep up morale and the 'Make Do and Mend' campaign was launched to encourage
people to make their existing clothes last longer. The ability to repair, alter
and make clothes from scratch became increasingly important as the war went on.
Kate would have studied needlework at school in Ireland, so she wouldn’t have
found making clothes from a pattern too daunting a task.
Over 40
million gas masks had been distributed around Britain by the outbreak of war.
The population were told to carry them at all times in the standard-issue
cardboard box tied up with string. Fashion designers quickly saw a gap in the
market, turned the ugly boxes into handbags at the top and a space at the
bottom for the mask, and these were snapped up by many women like Kate.
Make-up was
never rationed, but was taxed and very expensive. As with their clothes, women
found imaginative ways around shortages. Bright red lipstick was a way to look
glamorous, even if you couldn’t afford any other cosmetics. And when it just
couldn’t be found, beetroot juice was used instead of both blusher and lipstick
and boot polish instead of mascara. When stockings were in short supply, an
eyeliner was used to draw a ‘seam’ up the back of the legs—which may also have
been carefully painted with gravy browning to appear like a tan shade of
stockings. So, instead of being moth-balled for the duration of the war,
fashion became more inventive and individual—the colours brighter and the
colours bolder.
Excerpt:
Following
Helen into a department store’s lingerie department, and into a changing room,
Kate stripped right down to her embarrassingly old-fashioned underwear.
Catching sight of the shop girl’s smirking face in the mirror, Kate wanted the
ground to open up and swallow her. The girl measured her before bringing a
selection of bras and knickers for her to choose from. Kate stared in
consternation. How could she choose? They were all beautiful. Thankfully, Helen
decided for her.
“We’ll take
the peach set and the white,” she said. “Would you like to wear the peach set
now, Kate?”
Kate had
been running her fingers over the silk in awe and jumped. “Yes, I will. Thank
you.”
She changed
into the lingerie and stared at herself for a long time in the mirror. Silk.
She had never felt anything so soft before.
“Let’s see,
Kate.” She heard her aunt’s voice, opened the curtains, and both women stared
at her. “Good Lord.” Helen seemed astonished. “You do have a figure, after
all.”
Passing a
boutique a little later, Kate stopped and gazed at a suit in the window. Helen
had walked on but returned to her and smiled. “That’s very smart, isn’t it? Do
you want to try it on?”
“Oh, no, it
looks very expensive.”
“It doesn’t
cost anything to try it on.”
So the suit
was tried on and Kate paraded up and down the shop examining herself from all
angles. The suit was deep green and flattered her curvaceous figure.
“Do you
like it?” Helen asked.
“Oh, yes,
it’s lovely.”
“That’s
just as well because it’s yours.”
“Mine?”
Kate’s mouth fell open. It must have cost a fortune. “Oh, thank you.”
“Nonsense,
you’re starting to look feminine at last. Shoes and a handbag next.”
They found
a black handbag and matching shoes in a shop across the street. Again, Kate
paraded up and down, but this time to get used to the high heels. Standing up
in them for the first time, she had almost toppled over. Kate tottered along
the street, finding herself much taller than Helen, and followed her into a
hair salon.
“Your hair
isn’t too bad, actually,” Helen told her before turning to the stylist. “A
trim, and style it, please.”
Within an
hour, Kate’s hair had been swept back from her face into a chignon. Her aunt
leaned forward.
“Cheekbones,
too,” she murmured and nodded. “Beauty salon next.”
A further
hour passed with various powders and lipsticks being tried and tested before
Kate opened her eyes and gazed at the film star in the mirror, hardly
recognising herself.
“Oh, Kate,”
Helen breathed. “You’re beautiful.” She turned to the three women standing
behind Kate’s chair. “Whatever she’s got on, we’ll take it.”
Out on the
street, Kate found herself being stared at and even attracted wolf whistles
from a
group of soldiers. It felt strange—embarrassing—but flattering, too.
Blurb and
buy Links
London on 3
September 1939 is in upheaval. War is inevitable. Into this turmoil steps Kate
Sheridan, newly arrived from Ireland to live with her aunt and uncle, and look
for work. When she meets Flight Lieutenant Charlie Butler sparks fly, but he is
a notorious womaniser. Should she ignore all the warnings and get involved with
a ladies man whose life will be in daily danger?
Charlie
Butler has no intention of getting involved with a woman. But when he meets
Kate his resolve is shattered. Should he allow his heart to rule his head and
fall for a nineteen-year-old Irish girl while there is a war to fight?
Private
conflicts and personal doubts are soon overshadowed. Will the horrors of war
bring Kate and Charlie together or tear them apart?
Amazon UK -
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00UAY719Y
Amazon US -
http://amzn.com/B00UAY719Y
Smashwords
- https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/525040
Barnes and
Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1121346684
Author Bio
and Links
Lorna Peel is an author of contemporary and historical
romantic fiction. She has had work published in three Irish magazines –
historical articles on The Stone of Scone in ‘Ireland’s Own’, on The Irish
Potato Famine in the ‘Leitrim Guardian’ – and Lucy’s Lesson, a contemporary
short story in ‘Woman’s Way’.
Her first novel, Only You, a contemporary romance, was
published in 2014. Into The Unknown, an historical novel set during WWII, will
be published on 5 May 2015.
Lorna was born in England and lived in North Wales until her
family moved to Ireland to become farmers, which is a book in itself! She lives
in rural Ireland, where she write, researches her family history, and grows
fruit and vegetables. She also keeps chickens (and a Guinea Hen who now thinks
she’s a chicken!).
GIVEAWAY!
Make sure to follow the whole
tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter
the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/lorna-peel-2/
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Friday, 15 May 2015
The Importance of Being There: Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer Young (@jynovelist)
In another life (and, like every writer, I have many other lives) I’m a travel writer. I use words to describe
the places I’ve been and the
experiences I’ve had, and to try
and pin down the essence of a place. And they’re different, not just in terms of language
or culture. The rough volcanic rocks of the English Lakes have a totally
different feel to the soft fields of southern Scotland, not too many miles
away.
I’m telling you this
because places are important to me. Almost without exception, the starting
point for my novels is the location. Then come the characters and then,
bringing up the rear, the plot. That’s why my books tend to be set in places that aren’t just scenic but are interesting as well (and
are usually somewhere I’ve been on holiday because that’s when I have time to think).
Looking For Charlotte is different. The idea came from a newspaper cutting
which gave me both plot and characters,
though obviously I tinkered with them. But it didn’t give me the location. The real life
location, Pennsylvania, is somewhere I’ve never been and about which I know nothing so it
clearly wouldn’t do. So I took my
characters, Flora and Suzanne, and I moved them across the Atlantic to
Scotland.
Perhaps I should tell you what it’s all about. Hearing that the police have
abandoned the search for a toddler, Flora Wilson embarks on a search for the
child’s body so as to
bring closure to Charlotte’s mother, Suzanne — a quest which takes her through large and empty tracts of the Scottish
Highlands.
Why Scotland? It’s where I live. The Highlands, the focus for most of the novel, is
somewhere I spend a lot of time (though admittedly never enough). And the
Scottish landscape fits the tone of the book to perfection.
In a search for a buried child, the land is the key. First, following
the clues left in the killer’s suicide notes, Flora must identify the area where the body might be
buried — she must read the
landscape. It changes with the seasons; she must read that too. The book is set
in winter where the mountains and moorlands are bleak, sometimes even hostile
and Flora’s misreading of
nature leads her into peril.
Looking For Charlotte isn’t a travel book, but the story is closely integrated with the land in
which Flora lives — a land of
brooding beauty and fierce contrasts, and a land I love.
Excerpt
They fell into silence as they thought about the past.
Perhaps they’d
rambled the same hills at the same time with their previous partners. Maybe she
and Danny had straggled separately along rocky paths while Philip and Jo walked
hand-in-hand a few hundred yards away. Perhaps. Perhaps. She looked sideways
and saw that Philip had a pensive look on his face, as if he were thinking the
same thing. But she didn’t ask. Philip made her feel young and happy, but the
shadow of Jo scared her in some mad, inexplicable way, haunting the day out
like a ghost of the Scottish hills. Always, surely, at the front of Philip’s mind, at the very
kernel of his being.
They sat for a while longer in silence against the
sun-warmed rock, looking to the south. Here, a window of perfect autumn weather
had surprised them. To the south there was more of a haze, where a low glaze of
cloud lay over the Great Glen and the hills around it. In the distance, if
Flora looked hard, she could see faint scars on the landscape a short distance
from the road, close to a glass-roofed extension to a crumbling house and a
rusty old farm vehicle. If she hadn’t known what it was she’d never have guessed. The police had gone
now, though they hadn’t
quite been able to bring themselves to abandon their search site completely.
When she and Philip had driven past on the way up, they’d seen the blue and white tape and the Keep Out signs. From a distance it just looked like another
swathe of peat cutting, though one where there was no peat to cut.
Sitting beside her, Philip, who’d suggested this walk, glanced at his
watch. His sigh was one of reluctance; she knew that, like her, he loved to
walk but spent little enough time on the hills once work, football, and
domestic chores were taken care of. She worried that he took a puritanical view
of self-indulgence, felt guilty about enjoying himself too much or too often.
She wanted to make him smile.
‘That’s three o’clock,’
he said reluctantly.
She glanced at her own watch for confirmation. ‘Should we head back?’
There was a tempting summit a
little further on, but she’d spent enough time in the hills to know how false the
promise of even the smallest detour could be.
‘I suppose so.’
Standing up, they dropped down below the ridge to
where the elements once again became bearable. Out of the wind it was warm
again. Flora unzipped her jacket and looked towards Loch Broom and the
glittering jet and silver jigsaw which the light had made of the Summer Isles
and the sea. The fretted outline of the coast always made her stop and think,
and today it reminded her of something. ‘What was it Joanne said?’
Once again Philip’s mind was following her own; he answered
without the slightest puzzlement. ‘When the tide goes out we’re all part of the same landscape.’
‘It’s a very nice idea. That we’re all interconnected.’
‘Apparently it’s a very strong Celtic concept. I must read
up on the Celts.’
They were silent as they
scrambled down the steepest part of the path. A quick glimpse to the south
showed the fold of cloud had drifted a little closer. ‘You must miss her,’
she observed with daring, as
they reached a flatter part and began making more rapid progress, side by side
on the widening path.
Blurb
Divorced and lonely, Flora Wilson is distraught when she hears news of
the death of little Charlotte Anderson. Charlotte’s father killed her and then himself, and
although he left a letter with clues to her grave, his two-year-old daughter
still hasn’t been found.
Convinced that she failed her own children, now grown up and seldom at home,
Flora embarks on a quest to find Charlotte’s body to give the child’s mother closure, believing that by doing
so she can somehow atone for her own failings.
As she hunts in winter through the remote moors of the Scottish
Highlands, her obsession comes to challenge the very fabric of her life — her job, her friendship with her colleague
Philip Metcalfe, and her relationships with her three children.
Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Young_Jennifer/looking-for-charlotte.htm
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1D7pNY6
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JmAwBR
Author bio
I live in Edinburgh and I write romance and contemporary women’s fiction. I’ve been writing all my life and my first
book was published in February 2014, though I’ve had short stories published before then.
The thing that runs through all my writing is an interest in the world around
me. I love travel and geography and the locations of my stories is always
important to me. And of course I love reading — anything and everything.
Links
Twitter: @JYnovelist
Website: http://www.jenniferyoungauthor.com/
Tuesday, 12 May 2015
Out Now – Native Tongue – M/M Erotic Romance by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985) #erotica #romance #military #interracial
Blurb:
They may be back on British soil, but the battle
isn’t over.
When Captain Hugh
Wilkes fell for his Afghan interpreter, Rustam Balkhi, he always knew things
would never be easy. After months of complete secrecy, their return to England
should have spelt an end to the sneaking around and the insane risks. But it
seems there are many obstacles for them to overcome before they can truly be happy
together. Can they get past those obstacles, or is this one battle too many for
their fledgling relationship?
Author’s note:
Although this story does work as a standalone tale, it’s recommended that you
read the first instalment of the characters’ journey first—Desert
Heat, which is available from all good retailers.
**For those of you that
haven’t yet read Desert Heat either, there’s a great value double pack containing
both books available exclusively on Amazon (from 14th May), which is available for lending, and for
Kindle Unlimited members: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/desert-heat-native-tongue/
**
*****
Excerpt:
Captain Hugh Wilkes
drummed enthusiastically on the steering wheel of his car as he drove it up the
M3 towards London. He sung loudly and tunelessly along to the song on the
radio, too, but it didn’t matter. No one could hear him.
He’d surprised himself
by being so chilled out about the volume of Friday evening traffic. He wasn’t
the most patient of people, so the slow progress should probably have been
increasing his blood pressure, if not leading to full on road rage. But,
although he’d have loved to be actually achieving the speed limit, not bumbling
along at a mere fifty miles per hour, Wilkes was just glad the traffic was
moving at all. Britain’s roads, the motorways in particular, soon came to a
standstill if there was so much as a tiny bump between two vehicles. So any
progress was better than none.
Besides, what could he
do about it? His only other options to get to London from his base in Wiltshire
were a train, or stealing a plane, helicopter or tank. The latter might just
cause a little bit of bother, and mean the end of his army career, not to
mention criminal charges. The former meant cramming in amongst sweaty,
disgruntled commuters. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d be charged an extortionate
amount to do so, probably wouldn’t even get a seat, and would likely be
subjected to delays.
At least driving took
him from door to door, with plenty of personal space. And if there were delays,
well, he could sit them out from the comfort of his own vehicle, with the
climate control set to the perfect temperature, and the radio blasting some of
his favourite tunes.
The next song was even
better, and Wilkes’ tuneless wailing became more enthusiastic, as did the
drumming on the steering wheel. He was in one hell of a good mood, and if he
was truthful with himself, he knew it wasn’t just the fact the M3 was moving at
a nice pace. It wasn’t the Friday feeling, either. Sure, both of those things
were contributing to his happiness, but the main reason he was grinning like a
buffoon was the thought of what awaited him in the capital. Or rather, who.
Rustam Balkhi. His
gorgeous Afghan boyfriend, whom he’d met out in Afghanistan while they were
working together for the British Army. Now, with their tour of duty over and
the forces’ presence pulled out of the country, the two men had returned to
England. Wilkes had gone back to his regular army life in Bulford Camp, near
Salisbury. Balkhi was in London, where he’d recommenced the medical training
he’d postponed to become an interpreter for the Brits.
The past few weeks had
been somewhat of a whirlwind. Wilkes’ return to the UK had been
straightforward, but Balkhi had had to jump through some hoops in order to get
back onto his medical course. He’d been willing to start from scratch, but it’d
seemed like an awful waste of time, so Wilkes had spoken to his superiors,
who’d explained to the university what important work Balkhi had been doing.
Fortunately, they’d been persuaded of Balkhi’s commitment and character, and
allowed him to pick up where he’d left off. That settled, Balkhi had to pack
up, travel back to the UK, find somewhere to live, move in… and all before the
start of the next academic term.
Wilkes had felt
terrible. His return had taken place a few weeks before Balkhi’s, so although
he’d been granted some leave for R&R, he hadn’t been able to either spend
it with Balkhi, or to use it help him with his relocation. By the time Balkhi
had set foot on British soil, Wilkes was back to work. And, given nobody knew
about the two of them, or even that Wilkes was gay, he couldn’t exactly ask for
more leave in order to help his boyfriend move into his new flat.
Life had conspired
against them ever since, so this was the first opportunity they’d had to see
each other since saying goodbye in Afghanistan all those weeks ago. They’d
communicated via email, text message and phone calls, but it just wasn’t the
same. Especially since they’d gone from seeing each other every single day for
the best part of six months to not setting eyes on each other for weeks on end.
Wilkes had struggled
terribly in the interim. Life had been tough enough while they were still out
in the desert. After weeks and weeks of trying desperately to ignore their
growing attraction, they’d finally given in to it. It had been stupid and
risky, but, having quickly realised there was more to their attraction than the
physical, they’d decided to carry on their relationship in secret while they
were in Afghanistan, see how it went, and figure things out once Wilkes’ tour
of duty was over. Balkhi had always intended to return to the UK for his
studies, so they would, at least, be living in the same country.
*****
Author Bio:
Lucy Felthouse is a
very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of
subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many
more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica,
Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her
bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and
also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join
her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her
newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9
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